


get a load of these beans

by catpoop



Series: Sheith Month 2017 [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Crushes, Fluff, M/M, SheithMonth2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 15:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11786028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpoop/pseuds/catpoop
Summary: Sheith Month '17 - 12/8: Free DayWorking in a coffeeshop has its perks, Keith supposes, but not when everyone just wants to humiliate him for hiscrush.





	get a load of these beans

**Author's Note:**

> here take this Paltry Offering  
> can u see how much work went into the title
> 
> i should stop this madness and work on my sheith big bang fic instead...

If Keith had a say in things, he would be far, far away from the cashier and the pointless small talk, preferring to hide behind the _rowdier_ staff and busy himself with the dishes and drinks. Lance grins at him as Keith wilts a little on the inside, attempting to curl up in a safe corner of his brain and away from the current customer’s chatter.

“That’s lovely to hear, ma’am!” Lance interjects, a cheerful smile on his face. “Say, have you heard about –”

Keith wordlessly passes her the receipt in the hopes she’ll walk away and Lance stop leaning against his shoulder. It works, kind of, but when the space behind the counter is two people wide, it’s hard even for Keith and Lance’s lanky selves to avoid bumping elbows every second.

Keith hisses under his breath as Lance (purposely, probably) steps on the back of shoe, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the current customer – another lady, pale hair perfectly coiffed and outfit intimidatingly upper-class. The kind of person Keith would give a wide berth to on the sidewalk in case his poverty left stains on her blouse.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” Keith hastily mutters, tapping out her order and internally willing the line of customers to end. Weekday mornings are never enjoyable, even with an espresso shot (or two) coursing through his veins. He forces a lopsided smile onto his face when Lance pinches his arm as he passes by.

“You don’t need to remind me.” Keith reprimands after the hubbub has calmed down a little.

Lance’s eye-roll is pure disbelief. “Suure. Well, maybe not when Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome comes in. We should keep him around just to boost morale.”

Keith stiffens. "What?" The question is laced with poorly-disguised murderous intent.

"Y'know. The guy."

Just as Keith is busy dismissing Lance's accusations (and hoping his shift will end sooner so that Pidge can come take over), the aforementioned mister too-tall and unfairly handsome flashes in his mind in a montage of crystal-clear images. Keith wants to cry. Out of desperation, maybe. 

It's been months since the man took to coming around every weekend, nursing a latte (Keith spilled coffee on himself the first time) in a corner spot, reading and looking the very image of relaxed.

Would fit right in a magazine spread, Keith thinks, though he doesn't read many magazines. It's not his fault he's eyeing up the sharp edge of his jaws or the breadth of his shoulders at every opportune moment, though it's unfortunate that his co-workers notice. Every time.

It's become a kind of running joke, Keith suspects, even if he's never in-tune with the secret language his co-workers have constructed out of subtle eye movements and strangely-timed laughs.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Keith dismisses, and Lance slaps him with a tea towel.

"If you're not going to man up and confront him, then I'm going to go date him for you." Lance, proclaims, like he's making a noble sacrifice. "And I'm not even gay."

"Thank you, Lance. And there's nothing to confront him about." 

Secretly, Keith hopes Lance stays a mile away from the man at all times. Such a chiselled specimen of man doesn't deserve Lance's attention. Or his, to be honest. Keith hopes he's not imagining the crinkling smile and glimmer of affection in grey eyes. 

Maybe the man's nice to all service workers, but if he's willing to stay in the cafe for hours on end on his off days ... 

Keith would be lying if he admitted to not harbouring some kind of attraction.

"You know, Kogane, I really do pity people like you." Lance claps a heavy hand to his shoulder, face drooping in mourning. "Living every day of your life in such misery. Such _pain_. Such - "

Keith shrugs his hand off, pulling a face. "Don’t need the pity."

"I was gonna say ‘sexual frustration,’ but sure, interrupt me." Lance has the gall to sound deeply hurt. "Love you too."

Keith ignores him, but his brain has already latched onto two words: the most unfortunate ones. Sex ... had never really been an active thing in his life. According to Lance, it’s due to his apparent personality flaws, the hairstyle, and the _bad attitude_.

Maybe (and Keith thinks this is more likely) it was the lack of proper eye candy in his life. Not like Lance's preferences for T&A, but ...

Keith unconsciously darts a look at That Table, shoulders falling when he finds it occupied by a pair of strangers.

\-----

The next Friday, Keith takes some time out of his packed evening schedule (napping, eating, and a variety of animated screens) to mull over his 'attraction'. If Lance's hypocritical opinion is anything to go by, he's being shallow. Pidge applauds him for picking out the finest specimen of their species to reproduce with. Apparently there's an evolutionary benefit, but from what little Keith knows about biology, reproduction isn't really going to be part of the picture.

Of course, neither is actual dating, or conversation.

He sucks in a pained breath, clacks a few keys, and stares dully at his screen filled with supposed 'hot guys.' He doesn't really see the point.

Maybe he'll just have to finally man up, as Lance puts it, and ask Pidge to hack into the CCTV system and send him pictures of the mystery man.

\-----

“No can do.”

“Why?”

“He’s right there.” And to Keith’s shock, she points directly at the table across the café from them. Keith pulls a muscle trying to force her arm back down in time.

“Stop that!”

Pidge snickers and stalks away, leaving Keith to while away the rest of his shift by staring a hole through the man’s broad figure. The quiet peaceful chatter in the half-empty café lulls him into a daze, one that isn’t broken until someone politely coughs in front of him.

Keith slides off the counter with a yelp, raising drooping eyes to see – _him_.

For a moment, he loses track of his tongue in his mouth before he recovers his professionalism.

“How may I help you?”

The man taps a (large) finger against the counter, leaning to peer at the display case beside them. “Hmm – I already ordered a muffin earlier, but this time I’ll have a … lemon pound cake?” He flashes a roguish smile, and Keith feels overcome with a wave of dizziness. “Just gotta trick the body into thinking it’s salad.”

Keith’s eyes visibly trail the length of said body as he scrambles to type in the order and – he gulps, focusing on his job. Where was Pidge to man the cashier in his time of need?

His fingers work in a blur, every bone in his body screaming at him to shoo the man away from the counter. The plated cake clatters on the benchtop as Keith fumbles to grab a napkin and simultaneously shove it at the offending customer.

His grey eyes light up in gratitude, as he finally walks away with his food. Keith nearly collapses to the floor, but this time in frustration.

It’s been the third time, or thereabouts, and he still hasn’t mustered up the courage to jot his number down on a napkin. Lance is infamous for showering every female customer with various ways of contacting him, so why can’t Keith just – develop the same confidence? Unfortunately, it’s also partly due to the fact that he still hasn’t remembered his own number (no one asks him for it).

Pidge loiters back inside after a moment, startling when Keith sharply grabs her by the arm. “What? And how was he?”

“What do you mean ‘how was he’?” Keith snarls, “And where did you go?”

“To piss.” Pidge leans against the counter, blandly surveying the seated customers. “Hey – I think Mr. You-Still-Don’t-Know-His-Name has a spare plate. Go grab it. Go on.” She smacks the back of his head when he continues to stare.

“Go on, loverboy.” In uncharacteristic obedience, Keith steps out from behind the counter, tentatively scanning the other tables before making an obvious beeline towards the man.

He looks up from his novel as Keith approaches, expression brightening. “Hey, what’s up?”

Keith drags his eyes away from his open face to the crumb-scattered plate. It sits innocently beside the pound cake. “Your. Plate.”

The man momentarily raises a confused eyebrow before realisation crosses his face. 

“Ah – here you go.” The dish gently settles in Keith’s outstretched palm, and he nods a short thank you. Pidge openly laughs at the way he sprints back to the safety of the counter.

“Get laid yet?”

Keith’s cheeks glow. “ _No._ Go wash this for me.”

\-----

His insides are nearly shrivelled and dead from sexual frustration when, to everyone’s surprise, Pidge’s brother Matt and the Mystery Man walk into the café together. Lance takes their order in his best retail voice, but a hysterical edge creeps through. He jerks Keith out of his stupor with a muffled laugh.

“Ha! Did you – did you see that? What the fuck!”

“I’m going to skin Pidge,” Keith hisses, already imagining the way he’ll be prostrating himself before her. Pidge’s snide replies to his angry text follow in the same vein.

“Did she know the entire time? What the – she’s been depriving all of us of sexual satisfaction –” 

“All of us?” Keith whirls round with an angered hiss. “ _All_ of –”

Lance raises placating hands. “Whoa! No getting angry on me until you’ve officially laid claim to that piece of man meat. And I need signed documents.”

That could be soon, if all Pidge wants in exchange for information is a large pizza.

\-----

“Shiro.” Pidge mumbles after inhaling three slices.

Keith wrinkles his nose in disgust. “What?”

“Your man. Takashi Shirogane. Matt’s best friend and overall nice guy.” She licks pizza grease off her fingers and reaches for another (equally greasy) slice.

So he has a name. That’s better than him being just a particularly muscular part of Keith’s daydreams. 

“Anything else?”

“Hmm.” Pidge frowns at a string of cheese hanging off her slice. “He’s twenty-four? I could grab you his birth cert but that needs more pizzas.”

“No birth certificate! Just – just tell me everything you were going to say.”

Pidge looks a second away from kicking him out to enjoy her pizza in solace. “He – He’s studying to be a pilot. Isn’t a lightweight. Ate like four pizzas once.”

Keith isn’t too sure how to respond.

“I’ll send you his contact details later,” Pidge assures. “Now go and scurry off like a good boy.”

Keith is too nervous with anticipation to snarl at her.

As promised, Keith receives a text as soon as Pidge cleans up her pizza feast. With the barest glance at the stranger details (Shirogane’s … passport number?), his fingers tap to draft a new message to – Shiro.

Keith swallows around the hesitation in his throat, and presses send.

\-----

_Hi this is pidges friend Keith –_

“Matt?” Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Why has your sister been passing out my number to random baristas?”

“No she’s not – what?”

“Yes she has, look!”

Matt snatches the phone from his hand and squints at it. 

“When did your vision get so crap?” Shiro’s comment falls on deaf ears and he holds out a weary hand, motioning for his phone. “C’mon –”

“Oh, hey, I think this is – uh,” Matt mumbles, before his face morphs into a sly grin. “Respond to him, quick! I think kiddo has a crush on you.”

Shiro stares, slack-jawed. “I don’t even know him!” Being the focus of some teenage fantasy isn’t all that common now – the prosthetic puts people off.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t catfish him…”

“I – Matt! I’m not going to –” He’s interrupted by his phone promptly flying through the air. Shiro hastily catches it and cradles his baby to his chest, scandalised. “ _Matt!_ ”

Matt regards him lazily. “Wasn’t that far of a throw. And you’ve dropped it at least a dozen times this month.”

“Touche.” It’s not a dozen; more like eight. “I’m not going to catfish a, a – how old is he again?”

“Dunno. You’d have to ask.” His eyebrows dance a suggestive line on his forehead.

“I’d – rather not.” His phone feels like a lead weight as he cautiously glances back down. The message is still there.

His friend sighs dramatically, looking up from his own phone. “Okay, then how about this – if you don’t reply, Katie is going to force you to do all her chores. She said so herself.”

“No, I –” Nightmares of endless pruning and weed-killing for the Holts while Katie supervised his work flash in his mind. “Fine. Tell her to go torment someone else, I’ll do it.”

Matt’s half-hearted cheer echoes dully in his ears as he begrudgingly types a reply.

\-----

“Keith!” Lance’s voice is loud in the narrow alleyway behind the cafe. “Keith, stop taking so – _the fuck!_ Are you even alive?”

Keith stares up at him, kneeling frozen on the ground and clutching his phone with whitened fingers. “He – He _replied_.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :/
> 
> @swummeng-geys.tumblr.com  
> twitter: @hashtag_yikes


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